so just turn around & forget what you saw
by aimlessly
Summary: Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught. AU. AustinAlly.


_just turn around & forget what you saw_

**notes: **this is really and truly one of the only things i've written in the past four years that isn't angst-ridden. incredible. but it was so, so much fun to write. inspired partially by one of my guiltiest pleasures: 'good girls' by five seconds of summer. i highly recommend a listen; it's catchy as hell and i may or may not have listened to it on repeat the entire time i was writing this. and with that, i hope you enjoy. x

**/**

Ally Dawson is, by all accounts, a _good girl_.

Treasurer of Miami Palmetto Senior High for the third year running _and_ President of the French Honor Society _and _captain of the girls' track team _and_ a member of the NHS, she's got a lot on her plate. And then there's her volunteer work at the homeless shelter every other weekend, and the constant uphill battle of nudging her 4.55 GPA upwards in her strive to be valedictorian and, ultimately, world domination. Probably. Something like that.

Respected by her elders and her juniors, well-liked by her classmates, and on track to be accepted into Harvard, Ally might as well have her face slapped over the definition of _perfect _in the dictionary. Or, more appropriately, _Ms. Goody Two-Shoes_, Austin thinks bitterly. Except that's not in the dictionary. Or maybe it is. He's not really sure; he doesn't memorize the dictionary like he's sure Ally has. Either way, it doesn't matter.

Austin Moon is not, by most people's definition, a _good guy._

He's not a _bad_ person, no. He just kind of enjoys being sarcastic as hell and playing in a garage band that's definitely going to go global in the next three years. Despite his devilishly good looks that have probably earned him the right to be one of those loud, drunken frat boy types, he's really rather quiet in comparison. He could care less about school, but that's okay because within three years he'll be rich and famous, being fed grapes by servants with a bear or something chained up by the pool. He does, however, enjoy pancakes. Actually, scratch the grapes part. When Austin is rich and famous, pancakes will be on the menu for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

So no, Austin is really not a bad person at all. He just isn't like Ally. Which, in most of the school faculty's eyes, means that he's just another failure of a human being who'll end up working the McDonald's drive-thru in three years, living in a tiny third-floor studio apartment with a cat. Or he'll end up as a drug dealer or something; Austin likes to pretend like that isn't his Plan B if the whole fame thing doesn't work out. Which it will.

Anyway, he should hate Ally. He should totally hate her, because people who take academics too seriously are _annoying. _So he's surprised when she captures his attention; Austin does not normally notice people. He observes them.

Ally is really beautiful, though, and really nice - or so he hears. Despite the fact that she lives only a few blocks away, he's never actually spoken to her aside from a few short, painfully awkward conversations, let alone had a class with her; she's sitting pretty in the front row of AP Calculus, rubbing shoulders with a bunch of seniors and Austin is still stuck in Algebraic Models, scratching his head because really, what the hell is a logarithm?

Maybe there's not much more to Ally Dawson than her sweet, smiling (and smoking hot - just because he's not her _friend_ doesn't mean he's blind) exterior. Maybe she's dull as the rocks she studies; they study rocks at Harvard, right? Or maybe she's a sleeper agent trying to smoke out terrorists.

Austin realizes these two ideas are completely opposite ends of the spectrum, but can he really be blamed? He just wants to know her. He wants to know if there's more to her than just being smart and pretty and compassionate enough to run for saint. He's been wanting to find out since he met her in freshmen year - and by met he means admired her from afar; Ally's always been a _somebody_ as MPSH, ever since she first stepped foot onto the campus.

And now, with the school year winding down and senior year looming ahead, he has every intention of finding out.

* * *

Austin is really starting to wonder if Ally actually lives in the school library. Seriously. It's not even like he frequents the library very much, though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been stopping by more often now that it seems this is the dark-haired girl's favorite spot to like, hang out or whatever. Every time he walks through those doors Austin knows in his gut there's, like, an eight in ten chance that Ally is going to be there too, sitting at that same table near the back, flipping through a textbook and scribbling furiously in her notebook.

Now seems like as good a time as ever to make his move, what with her sitting about twenty feet away, at a table, alone. It's one of the few times he's ever _seen_ her alone. It's a sign.

Any chance of him chickening out is dashed when, by complete luck, he catches her eye. Ally doesn't look away; instead, she smiles at him in recognition for what is definitely at least five seconds before turning her attention back to her book.

It's not an _'I want you to do me on top of these bookcases'_ smile, but it's enough.

So he hastily rips a sheet of paper from his notebook and in his most legible handwriting, begins to write.

_Bonjour! :) Je deteste la cafe c'est tres mal pour drinquez... I'm totally kidding. I don't even speak French, which you probably realized by now because you do. Speak French, I mean. Anyway, hopefully that got your attention. I can't speak French but I can escort you safely to and from the movies this Saturday night as well as provide you with any extra large soft drink of your choice (or we can share? ;) )_

He reads it over a few times, grimacing a little, but decides that this is the best he's gonna get. He erases the winky face, then puts it back, then erases it again before adding a simple smiley face. Better not get too flirty yet. It's tempting, but that's dangerous territory. If he's going to successfully court Ally Dawson, he has to do it gracefully.

Satisfied, he folds the paper into the neatest paper airplane he can manage, because really, texting is overrated. Mostly it's because he doesn't even have her number, but that's a very minor detail in the grand scheme of things.

Austin takes a deep breath, positioning himself just right so, with the right amount of force behind the launch, the paper airplane should sail gracefully over the heads of his classmates and land squarely in front of Ally Dawson. It's a foolproof plan.

Except that the launch itself is wholly unspectacular, and Austin can only watch in horror as the paper plane lurches sideways and hits some poor unsuspecting kid in the face. He cries out in surprise, turning to glare at Austin, and Austin sinks low in his chair. Why don't these things ever work out for him?

"I'm sorry!" He calls out, embarrassed, earning him a death glare from the librarian. "It was, uh. It was for Ally!" From the corner of his eye, he sees Ally's head perk up when he says her name. He sinks down in his seat, mortified. The horror continues to grow when Ally stands up and walks over to where Austin's slightly crushed paper airplane is lying on the floor dejectedly.

This might take the cake as the single most embarrassing of Austin's life. This was a terrible, terrible idea. He reaches down and, in one swift move, grabs his backpack, stands up and makes quickly for the door.

"Not only can you not speak French, but apparently you don't have very good aim, either."

Austin's head whips around so fast he nearly snaps his neck. Ally is standing there behind him (damn, she's quick), and it's kind of really hard to not let his eyes travel from her Oxfords up her long, pale legs to the hem of her little pink skirt, the buttons of her white shirt and then to her stupidly beautiful face. She is beaming - glowing, even - and Austin feels a little faint. He should really probably sit down.

"So, what movie will we be seeing?" she asks, smiling innocently. God, she's pretty. Almost makes the rejection bearable - wait, _what_?

Austin chokes. Ally looks concerned, opening her mouth to say something but luckily he recovers quickly, holding up his hands. "Sorry about that. I just, uh. Wasn't expecting you to say yes. Especially with that scene I caused earlier. I should probably watch out for that kid."

Ally giggles, light and airy. "I thought it was cute. It's the thought that counts, anyway." She glances at her wristwatch (_who the hell wears a wristwatch anymore?_ Austin thinks but says nothing; he's not gonna push his luck) and her smile curves downward into a frown. "Oh, gosh. I'm going to be late for the Student Leadership meeting, I'd better run." She turns to go, then turns back, smiling again. "Here, let me see your phone."

It takes Austin almost a full ten seconds to process what she's said and then another ten is spent fumbling around in his pocket for his phone. He hands it to her, and she spends a few seconds hurriedly typing something in, fingers moving swiftly across the screen. Once she's finished, she grins brightly as she snaps a photo. A few more seconds of tapping at the screen, and then she's handing the phone back to him.

"Now you can text me and tell me what movie we're seeing." And maybe he's having a stroke or hallucinating or something, but Austin swears he sees her wink at him. Then, with a quick wave and a 'see you tomorrow', she turns and rushes out.

Austin most definitely does not check out her ass as she walks away.

* * *

_hey, it's Austin. u know, the one who hit that kid in the face with the plane._

No. Too soon. Don't remind her of your subpar status.

_yo, austin here, the handsome devil from the library. what time should I pick ur ass up on saturday?_

There's a chance she's into the douchey bad boy type, but better not risk it.

_hello beautiful. ;) so, what time should I come get u saturday?_

Good. That's good... Fuck, who is he kidding? He doesn't have a chance with her. He has to cancel. He must preserve his few remaining shreds of dignity.

_hiii it's Austin. I'm so sorry to have wasted your time but I can't make it saturday. I've been diagnosed with a rare, extremely contagious virus and am being quarantined for the weekend. sorry. :( :( :(_

Austin is sitting on his couch that night, finger hovering the send button on his phone. He's written and rewritten the stupid text at least ten times now. Maybe this is the world's way of telling him it wasn't meant to be, that the date is going to be a disaster anyway. He has to cancel because he's going to take her to the movies and he's gonna fuck something up, like accidentally pinch her whilst trying to feel her up or something. Or he'll try to kiss her and end up missing her mouth or something equally embarrassing. Not only will his game be thrown off, but he'll have screwed up his once in a lifetime chance with Ally _fucking_ Dawson, resident superhot nice girl. Hell, that'll screw him over for the rest of his high school career.

This is it. He's going to die alone. No, he's not being overdramatic, thank you very much. He is really and truly going to die alone in his huge, rich guy mansion in fifty years or so, and his pet bear is probably gonna eat him.

But then he looks back at the picture Ally took on his phone this afternoon, and he is again reminded why he began this chase in the first place. Her smile is kind and just the slightest bit flirty, brown eyes frame by thick lashes and not a single strand of dark hair is out of place.

Austin regains his composure after processing a few thoughts he'd rather save for later when he's not in his completely lit living room with his parents in the next room. Taking a few deep breaths, he types out what he hopes is a suitable message.

_hey Ally! It's Austin the paper airplane guy. sorry if you're busy doing homework or studying or something but you DID ask me to text you, so here I am. _

He contemplates adding a smiley face to the end of that, decides that would be too friendly for the first text, and sends it before he can overthink it any further.

A few agonizing minutes later, his phone buzzes with a reply. Austin does not bother trying to conceal his enthusiasm, immediately opening the text.

_Hey, Austin. I'm actually in the middle of a couple of things, but it's fine. So I repeat, what movie are we going to see? :)_

For most girls, _in the middle of something_ means drying off from the shower or painting their nails. For Ally, it probably means she's in an interview with a Harvard admissions counselor or trying to crack one of the world's unsolvable math problems.

_what do u want to see?_

It's not the world's most original response, but Austin is still kind of reeling from that little smiley face she added at the end.

_Real original, Austin. C'mon, take initiative; it's very important! Lucky for you I'm feeling very generous right now and willing to overlook that slip-up. How about you pick me up at 7 on Saturday night and we'll just see whatever we're in the mood for?_

Austin really hopes 'in the mood for' is smart talk for 'what ever best sets the mood for a make out session.' Either way, he is here and texting the prettiest, smartest girl in school to make plans for their date, and she's actually _texting back_ so he's not gonna push his luck.

_sounds good to me. see you tomorrow maybe?_

Less than a minute later, his phone buzzes with a response.

_We'll see what happens. ;) _

And with that, Austin decides it's time to retire to his room for the night to take a long, cold shower.

* * *

There is a very fine line, Austin thinks, between observing and spying. He's been straddling that line for a very long time, but today he's pretty sure he stepped over it on this sunny Friday afternoon.

Sure, it's not like he wandered to the tables out by the track with the knowledge that the girls' track team was practicing, or with the express intention of watching Ally. It's just a nice day out is all. But once he realizes that the track team _is_ practicing out here, Austin certainly doesn't plan on going back inside anytime soon.

So there he sits, sort of starting an essay that was assigned three weeks ago and is due next period, but mostly just watching. Ally is hopping around like a child that's had too much sugar before bed, hopping from foot to foot and bending down to stretch and constantly tugging at her ponytail. "Dawson! Sanchez! Holt! _800_!" The coach calls her and two others girls up. They stagger themselves in the lanes, crouching down low (Ally is still bouncing a little, he notes with a fond grin) before taking off the second the whistle sounds.

Sanchez and Holt are fast (Austin doesn't know their first names and doesn't really care all that much, to be honest) but Ally is faster. Her feet pound against the pavement, ponytail flying behind her as she completes her first lap, coach calling out, "1:03!" It's incredible, really - she hardly slows as she rounds the curve, a good five or six seconds ahead of the others. "2:11!" Her coach calls out as she crosses the line and jogs a few meters past the finish before she stops, breathing hard and resting her hands on her knees. The other two girls finish soon after, but Ally is still first. Like she is in everything else. First in track, first in votes for treasurer, first in the class, first to turn in her final project, first to receive an A+ in from Mr. Anderson, the strictest, most no-nonsense teacher in school.

She is absolutely unreal, and she is the most wonderfully breathtaking person Austin has ever seen.

What the hell is she doing wasting her time with a kid like him?

Austin gets a little lost in his thoughts sometimes (his excuse as to why he's failing English), so he is a little taken aback when he accidentally catches her eye as she takes another swig from her water bottle. This time, she smiles brightly and waves, wiping her face with her towel before setting it down with her things and jogging over to him.

"I knew you were spying on me," she says with a grin and a glint in her eye. It's so flirty Austin is sure he's dreaming. You'd think a girl like Ally would have been too busy with homework even during middle school to learn how to properly flirt, but alas, here she is.

"Don't give yourself so much credit," Austin fires back, smiling a little too wide so she knows he's kidding. "It's your coach I'm after."

"Coach Johnson?" Ally giggles. "She's married with three kids, and I'm pretty sure one of them is in college. Call me crazy, but I don't think she'd be into it. Impress me tomorrow night, though, and I might be able to pass on a good word to her for you."

Somehow it's not what Austin expected her to say, which just makes the whole thing a little bit funnier.

Before he can formulate an equally witty response, Coach Johnson's voice cuts through the air as she hollers, "Dawson, if you don't get back here in thirty seconds you're gonna redo that 800 until you get under 2:10!"

Ally looks flustered; she clearly isn't used to being scolded.

"I gotta go," she says quickly, waving forlornly to him before heading back to the track.

Austin wonders dazedly if she's purposely giving him so many chances to gaze at her rear end.

When Ally turns her head and grins slyly at him, readjusting her ponytail, he gets his answer.

* * *

Austin shows up in Ally's driveway five minutes early the next night, because he figures she's one of those terribly prompt people who shows up twenty minutes early for everything 'just to be safe' and, well. He wants to impress her. Despite her being too concerned with academics, he really does like her and he doesn't want to screw this up.

Before he can even get out of the car, the curtains are pulled aside in one of the upstairs windows. It's Ally peeking out at him, and her eyes are wide in something that resembles panic. She motions for him to stop, mouthing the words 'stay put'. Austin's brow furrows in confusion; he picks up his phone immediately when he sees her name and picture flash across the screen.

"Ally? Is everything okay?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah, everything is fine," she says quickly, and he can still see her in the upstairs window, looking a little calmer. "Just, um. Just don't come to the door. In fact, back out and park on the curb and I'll be down in a second."

Before Austin can ask her what the hell is going on, Ally is hanging up the phone and flashing him a thumbs up from the window as he skeptically pulls out of the driveway. By the time he's idling on the curb, he can see her fussing around in her room.

Then, much to his bewilderment, she pushes open the window and crawls out onto the roof.

Austin falls, hard. Or hard_er_.

He knows he has to have her when he sees her in those tiny jean shorts with her converse-clad feet dangling above him, climbing out of the second story window. Once she's out, she steadies herself with both hands atop the dormer, pushing the window shut again with her foot.

Austin doesn't believe in love at first sight, not by a long shot. He's not an idiot (and the fact that he believed in the Tooth Fairy until he was thirteen is irrelevant.) But he thinks that if he ever were to come close to being proven wrong, this would be it.

Because, well, _fuck_, he might be in love with her. Just a little bit.

Ally lowers herself from the roof, falling a couple feet before landing gracefully onto a wrought-iron chair waiting below before she ducks into his car, grinning happily, eyes glittering.

"Hi, Austin! Sorry about the delay. Standard protocol. Hopefully you weren't looking forward to the movie too much, because I've decided I'm taking you to a party instead."

* * *

Ten minutes later, nothing that just went down has been explained (even though Austin thinks it really, _really_ warrants an explanation) and they're driving down a back road on their way to the beach, windows down and sunroof open per Ally's request.

Austin has so many questions he doesn't even know where to start.

The thing is, Austin _was_ kind of extremely prepared to take her to a movie. Then again, he was also prepared for her to exit her home via the front door like a normal person, wearing Oxfords and a collared dress and kissing her balding, smartly-dressed father's cheek with an _"I love you, daddy; yes, I'll be safe,"_ before flashing a bright, trustworthy smile and leaving on Austin's arm.

He's barely said two words to her since she got in the car; he's not upset or anything, he just doesn't know what to say, especially since he's 110% sure this is all a dream. Either that or he's really, really high.

And when she leans over to stick her face out the window, her top rides up the slightest bit and Austin catches the swirling inky ends of a tattoo, resting on her lower back, right above the curve of her ass.

"Oh my god, Ally, are you _serious_?" He has to actually repress a moan this time. How the hell does someone even _hide_ something like that? This is a dream. This is a really, really freaky - albeit completely delightful in the sense that he's probably going to wake up a little uncomfortable - fever dream and any minute now he's going to get hit in the face by a bird or something and wake up to a world where Ally Dawson merely smiles coyly at him from across the library and then goes back to eye-fucking her history textbook.

Ally nearly jumps out of her skin. "God, you scared me! You haven't said anything the entire ride. Which is...understandable, I guess."

"You guess?" Austin squints at her. "Do you, uh, do this often?"

"Sneak out of my house through my bedroom window? Sure." She pauses, blinking at him. "Sneak of of my house through my bedroom window to meet up with boys I barely know? No, I only gift a special, select few with the pleasure of my company."

Austin is still really, really confused, but he blushes at that last part anyway. Damn it.

"W-what about, like, Harvard and valedictorian and -"

"Austin!" Ally interrupts his ramblings with a fit of giggles. "Those things are _still happening. _Oh, god, you didn't think I was a pretentious, self-proclaimed good girl _all the time_, did you? If I had to live like that 24/7 I'd have gone insane years ago. I'm sure living like that all the time is fit for some people, but not for me." Her eyes widen in surprise when he says nothing, just raises his eyebrows as if to say, _well..._

"Oh," she says, stunned. "You did think that. Look, I'm really sorry. I probably should've said something earlier." She's looking down and fiddling with the laces on her shoes like a child who's been caught up past their bedtime. It's so strangely endearing, Austin thinks, smiling fondly. "If you want to, we can totally just go to the movies. It'll be fun." She offers him a wane smile.

Austin can see in her eyes that she really does need to unwind, though. He's not much into the partying scene, but for her, he'll do it. "No, it's not that," he says quickly, because it totally isn't. "I'm just a little...well...I wasn't expecting you to be, um. A badass, I guess. But it's totally cool," he assures her, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "Let's go to this party."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now quit pouting, okay?" Austin grins slyly when she shoots a glare at him. "Do I make a left up here?"

"Yeah, then you can probably just park on a curb or something." Ally is quiet for a moment before she adds, "Oh, and Austin?"

"Yeah, Ally?"

"Thank you. So, so much." Her eyes are soft, smile of gratitude on her face as she reaches over for his right hand and squeezes.

Twenty minutes later Austin is standing on thr beach sutrounded by a group of people he's never met before, getting sand all over her shoes, bonfire roaring at the center of it all, flames licking at the dark, starry sky. He has absolutely no idea where the hell Ally went, and he isn't too keen on socializing with anyone else here, so he figures his best bet at this point is to wade casually through this sea of inebriated people in search of her, occasionally taking sips of the drink in his hand to kill his nerves. Maybe he'll even work up the courage to ask her to dance.

When he spots her, she's got a drink in one hand, the other resting on some guy's back. They're talking and laughing, and when the boy leans in close to ask her something Ally's eyes scan the throng of people until they land on Austin. She smiles and gestures towards him, and the boy leans in even closer, lips brushing her ear as she he speaks. Whatever he says makes Ally laugh, hard, before shaking her head. Austin flushes; it's hard not to jump to the conclusion that he won't be the one taking her home tonight.

Call him crazy, but this isn't exactly how Austin was expecting this night to pan out.

Suddenly, Ally is no longer with the other boy but by Austin's side; he relaxes a little. "Hi," she says cheerily, pulling on his arm and he'd think she was completely wasted if they didn't just get here. That, and her eyes betray her. Despite her actions, her eyes are alert and aware. She's not nearly as hammered as she'd like them to think. Austin smiles because even like this, Ally is smarter than everyone else.

"Getting drunk off your ass isn't nearly as fun as it sounds," she says quietly, smiling and swishing around the remaining liquid in her cup. "Being pleasantly buzzed...well, that's more my style." Always clever. At least that hasn't changed.

"Who was that guy you were talking to?" Austin asks impulsively. He doesn't mean to change the subject, but he can't help it. He's a teenage boy, for christ's sake. "You two seemed pretty friendly."

"Oh, you mean Devyn? Why, you jealous?" Ally asks smugly, raising a delicate brow.

"Maybe a little bit."

She giggles, squeezing his hand again. "Austin, Devyn is great and all, but he's not really into girls." Oh. "In fact, he thought _you_ were one hell of a looker and wanted to know if you we're available."

"Well, if I happen to see Devyn again I'll let him know I'm incredibly flattered by his interest, but that right now I've got my eye on this really gorgeous girl who spends her weekdays in the library or in student council meetings and her weekends sneaking around in Chuck Taylors and a Rolling Stones t-shirts."

This time, it's him who makes her blush.

"Let's get out of here and go for a walk or something," she says, adjusting her voice so he can hear her over the terrible music that seems to be getting louder and louder. Before he can agree wholeheartedly, Ally is pulling him along by the hand, smiling and waving at a few people she must know. MPSH seniors, Austin thinks. Impressive. He knew she had classes with them, not that she partied with them.

They walk down the beach until the music is just a soft undertone to the sound of waves lapping at the sand before they sit down. Ally doesn't let go of his hand; she plays with the bands on his wrist instead, smiling softly. Then, without another word, she flops down onto her back, stretching out on the sand and gazing at the night sky. Austin promptly copies her, and when he reaches over hesitantly to take her hand again, she lets him.

"No offense," he says quietly, rolling onto his side to look at her. "But why don't you just, you know, tell your parents you're going out and just go out? Why be so sneaky about it?"

"I have something to maintain with my parents, Austin. Not just trust, but their approval. They don't approve of rebellious teenagers. They don't even approve of being out past 9:30 on a Friday night. I've given up on making them understand that I need ways of unwinding that aren't reading Emily Bronte or playing Scrabble with them on Saturday night. So one night in eighth grade I snuck out at midnight and just, like, took a walk around the block. I made it a weekly routine. It was so easy, and they never suspected a thing. I had so much lost time to make up for so I started making more and more plans with people and sneaking out more and more often and for longer amounts of time, and at this point my parents trust me so much I can bid them goodnight at 6 or 7, lock the door to my room, and they won't come up to check on me once. They just think I'm studying or working on something." Ally takes a long breath afterwards, like a weight has been lifted from her chest; she won't meet his eyes. "And that's why."

And, well. That makes sense, Austin thinks. He actually feels a little sad for her, but when he meets her gaze again, she is smiling. She scoots a little closer to him, and Austin almost dies right there because, oh, _shit_. This is it.

Sure, he's kissed plenty of girls before, but this is _Ally_.

He's so lost in his thought process that Ally purses her lips uneasily. "You don't want to kiss me," she says quietly.

"No! Oh, god, I totally want to kiss you," Austin reassures her quickly. "It's just that I really, really like you and I still can't believe all this," he pauses, gesturing to her, "is real, and I don't want to mess this up -"

He's cut off by her lips pressing against his insistently; his hands settle low on her back. Her skin is warm and soft and he can taste vanilla and booze on her but he knows that when their legs tangle together that this isn't some drunken hook-up; this is real. Ally is real, and she's here with him, and she isn't the girl who walks the halls wearing collared shirts and pleated skirts but he just doesn't _care_.

It's really hard not to be a typical horny teenager boy about this. Like, really hard. But this is still Ally and he still wants to impress her, so Austin tries very very hard to control himself and keep his hands from traveling any lower.

Suddenly, Ally is pulling away, grinning at him. She's a mess; her eye makeup is slightly smeared and her hair is all over the place and her shirt is lopsided. Austin has never seen anybody more perfect. "Sorry to disappoint," Ally whispers in his ear and he fights the urge to cut her off with his mouth, "But I don't hook up on the first date. Race you to the car," And with that she's laughing and taking off, hair flying behind her and converse digging into the sand.

Austin is dazed and laughing and so, so happy as he takes off after her.

(He has to stop and catch his breath after five minutes because he really doesn't remember parking the car so far away, and not _everyone_ can be as fast as Ally is.)

* * *

"Austin, believe me, I want to stay as much as you want me to, but I have to _go_." Ally is laughing between kisses; Austin has her pinned up against the side of his Camaro because this night hasn't gone anything like he expected, but it's been it's own kind of wonderful - so, so strangely wonderful - and he's not ready to let it end.

"Austin!" She squeaks when his hands travel lower to rest on her ass. Giggling, she wriggles away from him. "Goodnight, Austin." She smiles, lids heavy as she gives him a little salute. Before she climbs onto the chair to clamber up onto the roof, she stops and comes running back. "Give me your phone." He hands it over without missing a beat. She opens his camera again, flash illuminating the mascara tracks on her face as she takes a few; one smiling, one sticking her tongue out, one sucking in her cheeks like a model. They end up right next to the one she took on Thursday in his photo stream and he marvels at the difference, chuckling and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Maybe next week you can take me to a movie," she says, kissing him on the cheek before she heads back to climbing the walls like a monkey. She crawls in through her window and waves at him before drawing the blinds. The lights downstairs are all off; her parents are probably asleep, blissfully unaware of their genius daughter's midnight escapades.

Austin sits on the curb outside her house for a while, breathing hard and grinning like an idiot.

Because, well. _Fuck._

* * *

On Monday morning, Austin is feeling a little more present but still incredibly happy when a voice startles him in the hall.

"So, what movie are we seeing next weekend?"

It's Ally, surrounded by her other super smart groupies. She's wearing this little while lacy prairie girl dress with her Oxfords and a blazer with her hair curled softly, cradling her books in her arms. Smiling gently like this, she is the picture of innocence. It's still hard to believe Saturday night was a real thing that happened.

She takes Austin's breath away more and more every time he sees her . "Um, I dunno," he stammers. I'll text you?"

"'Kay," she says with a wave, turning and walking away.

But before Austin can head off to class, Ally turns around and winks, smiling flirtatiously at him. His phone buzzes, signaling an incoming text. It's from her.

_Meet me in the back of the library at 1:30. ;)_

Austin laughs, stunned, before hastily typing out a reply.

_wouldn't miss it for the world, miss ally badass dawson._

**/**

**if you favorite, i'd be wholly grateful if you left a review to go along with it. x**


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